As I move into my mid 40s this year (because 43 is not a mid-40s age, it’s still an early 40s age) I am slowly coming to the realization that my completely out-of-step existence with the rest of the world is becoming increasingly apparent; not because of my somewhat different thought processes or eccentric behavior, but rather because I think I’m getting too old for the ever-young gay demands of the community.
When I got home last night there were two stereos blasting in the house. Jamie listens to music that is not really my thing; I just hear gargling, shouting and guitars, but that’s just my take on it. There’s nothing wrong with the music, I just don’t go and seek it out, and because of the age difference between the two of us, I don’t find this surprising.
In the kitchen I heard the chipper jingle of “Kiss 108 FM!” After the chipper jingle all I heard was blips and bleeps and moaning sounds that were autotuned beyond any sort of musicality. I felt like someone was holding seashells up to my ears and then making trilling noises into a hole on the other side. I refrained from saying anything about this because it was obvious that Scott was enjoying Kiss 108 FM, heck, I enjoyed the station very much when I lived in Boston from 1988-1990, and I didn’t want to impede any efforts at supper that Scott was making. The thing is, Scott is a couple of years older than me and I couldn’t understand a word the robot on the radio was saying but Scott was singing right along. I couldn’t find the necessary capabilities within my brain to comprehend the electronic gargling sounds. I felt left out, old and obsolete.
Supper was quite tasty though.
A couple of weeks ago when Earl and I went on that really long ride in the Jeep, I actually looked at my watch towards the end of our dinner and made the claim, “Wow, it’s getting late!” It was 10:00 p.m. on a Saturday night. Ten years ago I would have been readying myself for a night of DJing at the local club, where I’d do my thing until 2:30 and then possibly go to an after-hours party after helping get the bar cleaned up. I’m sure that’s what the kids do today.
When did I become so obsolete?
The other night I watched a clip (in error) of “Bionic Woman”, that awful remake of the 70s show where Jaime Sommers wasn’t really acting like Jaime Sommers. The show was dark and menacing and Jamie seemed very angry. When she jumped up onto a building using her bionics, the camera pulled back so that you could see the leap of 30 feet or. The entire leap was shown from ground to roof and it was embarrassingly obvious that there were cables and harnesses involved that had been computer-erased from the scene. What happened to using a little bit of imagination when we are only shown the beginning of the leap and the landing on the roof? Though this is a poor example, is it bad to think that it’d be better to engage my imagination while watching a television show instead of painting everything in such an obvious manner, however poorly executed that demonstration might be?
And while I’m talking about harnesses; I look at these pictures of young guys on the internet wearing leather harnesses that just go across the top of their chest and around their shoulders. All I can see an ill fitting halter top like you’d find on a beach near a trailer park. I don’t find anything hot about these new, mini harnesses. My understanding is if you’re going to be wearing a harness, you’d better be ready to be hauled up into the air by it like some sort of Cirque du Soleil Sex Act. And am I completely obsolete by thinking of Mary Lou Retton (which most people these days would seemingly say, “Who?”) because I thought of a dismount eligible for scoring if you’re engaging in a Cirque du Soleil Sex Act? If I barked out the name Mary Lou Retton while DJing in a club today, people would look at me like I have a propeller on my head. I know, if I barked out “Lady Gaga” people would either get all breathless with excitement or throw sides of beef at me (I know she does something with eggs and meat) but I couldn’t name a song of hers outside of the one where she sings her name a lot.
Maybe I’m more nuts than obsolete.